Now isn’t that a sight (Poem #108)

The street burst,

clicks of heels,

dashing of dress shoes,

snuffling sneakers,

and the misfortune muffles of my flip flops.

I should have known better,

it rained,

I slipped,

and it really was a disarray of minute proportion,

yet to me,

if front of all those strangers,

that would be their one impression;

a foreign blond girl in trashy sandals falling on her ass in a puddle in the busy street of Tokyo holding a McDonald’s bag…

now isn’t that a sight!

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